After dismissing Sorcha, I waited for the door to click shut before I turned to face Mai. Dozens of questions flitted through my mind, yet none reached my lips as the Húsvættir came forwards to clasp my hands within her own.
“I know you are uncertain, and perhaps a little scared.” She murmured, stroking her thumb over my fingers. Her mægen brushed over mine bringing forth feelings of comfort. “There is still much for you to learn, but the time has come for you to retake your place.”
“I am not ready,” I confessed, the words feeling like acid on my tongue.
“Elayna, you are as ready as I can make you. Whilst I would have preferred this not come until after you came of age, we have been left with little other choice.”
“I should not have confronted the goblins, it was a foolish mistake.” I sighed, pulling my hands out from between Mai’s.
“It was, however it is in the past.” She said, taking a step away from me with a wry smile. “Now, no more delaying. It is time to greet your faðir, and his consort.”
Maitane walked to the door, holding it open for me as I strode through with an confidence that I did not truly feel.
Doubt plagued my mind as I walked down the stairs to the ground floor of the townhouse. Did I truly have the strength to take my place as the small moon of the Dökkálfar?
Expression schooled into an impassive mask, I entered the living room, and settled onto the armchair without sparing any of the room's occupants a glance. Only once I was seated did I take a moment to examine my surroundings.
Lady Isabel was positioned on the same couch she had occupied several hours earlier, and behind the couch, stood a Dökkálfar woman with her arms folded over her chest.
The Dökkálfar’s expression was stoic as she gazed back at me. Her black hair was cut short, with side swept bangs covering the right side of her face. My eyes trailed over her dark colored clothing, which I noted was a similar style to that worn by Lord Loren, and the three Dökkálfar guards I had encountered earlier in the day.
The three-pronged antlers she wore showed her to be of a noble rank, and based on the length of each prong I concluded she was from an honored house. A tiny crescent shaped moonstone embedded at the base of the right antler caught my eyes, and my body grew taut as her identity fully registered in my mind. Helma.
In a swift motion, she moved from her position at the far side of the room, her body a blur as she came to kneel in front of my chair. I stared down at the woman who knelt with her head bowed. What was she doing? She was my Vörðr, my life guardian, there was no need for her to kneel before me. Her place was at my back, not my feet.
“Why do you kneel before me, Helma?” I asked softly, as I leant forwards to brush aside the strands of hair which covered the right side of her face.
My intention had been to uncover her face so that I could stare into both her eyes unobstructed, but the sight that greeted me as I shifted the strands of hair aside had me freezing in place.
I swallowed heavily as I grazed my fingertips over the roughened skin which covered the right half of my Vörðr’s face. Helma’s right eye was obscured by a thick scar that ran from the center of her eyebrow, and down her cheekbone.
A tear filled silver eye gazed up at me as I withdrew my hand, and the silken black strands of her short hair fluttered back into place, concealing the scars once more.
“I am unworthy of serving as your shadow, Smártungl.” Helma said, her voice hoarse as a tear fell from her undamaged eye. “The only place left for me is here.”
“You forget yourself, Vörðr Helma.” I said, imbuing my tone with as much authority as I could muster. “You are my protector! Bound to serve me from my first breath until your last. Your life is mine. You do not dictate your worth nor where your place should be. I do!”
The Vörðr stared at me in silence for a long moment, before she bowed her head and moved to stand behind my chair.
I averted my gaze from the room's other occupants to stare down at my lap in an attempt to gain a semblance of privacy, while I fought to regain control over my emotions.
My chest felt tight, whilst my head ached with a throbbing pain as I struggled with my own inner turmoil. I wanted to say something more to her, but the words felt stuck within my throat. The Helma of my memories was a beautiful unmarred Svartálfar woman who never failed to greet me with a cheerful smile. This stoic, and silent version of her was almost completely unrecognizable.
After taking a moment to gather myself, I turned to look at the ornate full length mirror which sat directly opposite my chair. It was oval shaped, and framed by a large pair of gleaming silver antlers which held it up off the ground.
As my gaze landed on the silvery surface of the mirror, it was not my reflection I saw, but the image of two men who sat side by side on a plush chaise, and exuded an aura of sensuality that could be felt even through the mirror.
The man who sat on the left was bare chested, his hair loose and unadorned as it flowed over his shoulders like an ebon curtain. The lack of clothing covering his upper body, made it impossible not to notice the silver piercings which adored his chest. In addition to the piercing decorating his chest, each of the long slender ears which peaked through the dark silky hair were pierced with a row of earrings.
The sight of the earrings sent a shiver down my spine. The ears of a Dökkálfar were highly sensitive, and it was taboo for any but one's kin or lover to touch them. I could faintly remember tugging on those ears as child, pulling on the earrings as I clambered over his lap, and the memories of it brought a wave of heat to my face. What a shameless child I had been.
Seated beside his consort, my faðir wore a finely embroidered tunic in a deep purple. His hair pulled back into a braid revealed his ears were free of piercings, and the antlers which adorned his head possessed five prongs protruding outwards.
“Blessuð nótt, dóttir, Smártungl av Svartálfaheimr.” My faðir said, his voice was low, with an authoritative undertone that only a person who spent their life giving orders could achieve. Beside him, his consort echoed the greeting, the silken tone of his voice harmonizing with the Ríkrtungl’s deeper one.
The tension in my shoulders eased when they used that particular greeting. They spoke in Níumál, the universal tongue of the vættir, which could be considered a sister tongue of Old Norse, and Gaelic. There were many languages spoken by the vættir with Níumál, and Ænskr, a sister tongue of English, being two of the most commonly used.
“Blessuð nótt, faðir, Ríkrtungl av Svartálfaheimr.” I responded, first looking to the Ríkrtungl, before turning my attention to his consort. “Blessuð nótt, athair, Ástugrtungl av Svartálfaheimr.”
We stared at each other in silence after my greeting. Neither of them spoke, and I did not feel inclined to be the one to break the silence.
Whilst I was relieved they had chosen the simplistic greeting of “blessed night, small moon of Svartálfaheimr”, as opposed to a more formal one, it did not fully ease the tension of facing either male. Regardless of our relation, they were the great, and beloved moons of Svartálfaheimr which meant there would always be a level of formality in all our interactions.
“Lady Isabel has informed us you wish to remain in Manna-heim until your manifestation.” Faðir said, after a lengthy silence.
“Yes faðir, that is my wish.” I said, fighting the urge to look over at the woman as I felt her eyes on me. “I believe residing here until I come of age, and manifest my core will be safer than returning home.”
“You doubt our ability to protect you, dóttir?” He asked, his face becoming taut with anger.
“Have you not already failed to do so, faðir? Isn’t that the reason we have been apart for almost eleven years?” I snapped.
The Ríkrtungl’s expression fell back into a mask of impassivity, though his voice was strained as he spoke. “You are not wrong in your words, dóttir. Our hearts ache with the losses of that night.”
“As does mine.” I murmured, dropping my gaze from his.
“It would be our preference that should you remain in the human realm, it be in one of our own conclaves.” Prince Consort Helvern said, redirecting the conversation.
I looked at my athair, giving a slight shake of my head. “I would be safer in an enclave ruled by others. An enemy would be reluctant to attack whilst I am under the protection of another kingdom, lest it beget war.”
“You are correct, however if you select one, others will feel slighted. Should you reside in an enclave under our rule, there is no room for insult.” He said.
I gave a nod of acknowledgement, and was about to respond when movement from my aunt caught my attention.
“If I may?” Lady Isabel said as she came to stand beside my chair.
“Speak freely Isabel,” Prince Helvern said, waving a hand towards the woman who dropped into a curtsy.
“If the Seelie high king permits her stay within the New York enclave, it may prove educational for Elayna to play host to the lords of each enclave. Perhaps if we also agree to allow an ambassador from each kingdom to attend the small moon’s coming of age celebration, it would aid in smoothing over relations.”
My faðir inclined his head, but his expression showed he was not pleased with the solution offered. “Your words have merit, however her coming of age celebration is already being planned for after her return to Svartálfaheimr. Our people will wish to celebrate their small moon’s rise into adulthood.”
“An unofficial celebration then,” Lady Isabel countered, getting a terse nod in response.
“Do you foresee any issues with the high king allowing me to remain in New York?” I asked.
Helvern looked thoughtful as he tapped a slender finger on his bottom lip. “Dóttir, do you recall the heritage of your maternal grandmother?”
Lady Isabel made a soft sound at the mention of her mother, and I nodded in response to the question. It was a delicate subject, as the relation of Lady Lamorna to the Seelie high king was rarely spoken of publicly.
I mulled over his question for a moment, wondering why he would bring up my maternal grandmother. My Omma held no noble title among the Seelie, as she was the daughter of a maid. It was only in the Unseelie court that she was known as Lady Lamorna due to her concubinage to a powerful Ard Tiarna.
“My grandmother is not acknowledged.” I reminded him as our eyes met in the mirror.
The royal consort waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “If done right, I believe we can prod Locryn into acknowledging you as his grandniece.”
I glanced at Lady Isabel, taking in her taut expression. In acknowledging me, the Seelie king would be forced to do so for not only his half sister, but my aunt as well. Likely, they would be given a title, and recognition within the Seelie high court, which would also improve their standing within the Unseelie court.
My grandfather, Ard Tiarna Meryasek was powerful in his own right, but I knew from discussions with my móðir that Lady Lamorna suffered in his household due to her lowered status. Despite Lady Lamorna giving him two children, she was not treated with the same honor as his other concubines.
When my móðir became pregnant with me, Lady Lamorna was held in higher regard, but I suspected that after disappearance she may have suffered some fall in status. I could remember the few occasions I had met with the two, the crimson haired woman who looked so much like her daughters was always filled with warmth, whilst the stern man who came with her stood firm, and cold.
Shifting my attention back to the mirror, I observed the two men, noting the annoyed look on the Ríkrtungl’s face, and the amused one on his consort’s. “I see the benefit in this, however I am uncertain what gaining his acknowledgment will do for my current situation.”
“It would give precedence to the Seelie high court being your host for the next two months, and your unofficial coming of age celebration.” Helvern replied. “However, I recommend moving to the main Seelie enclave in Ireland.”
I shook my head. “Staying here is better, if I went to a bigger enclave I would have less freedom. Lord Fergus also has his own connections to the high court, which are of benefit.”
“Oh?” My faðir raised a brow. “What connection does such a small enclave’s lord have to the high court.”
As I opened my mouth to respond, I was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps.
Helma moved to the door where she was met by a second woman, and after conversing in low tones, the two approached me, with the new comer dropping to one knee in front of my chair.
I gazed down at the woman, noting the pink hue of her eyes, which gave away her mixed heritage. Pink also streaked her black hair, which she wore in tight braids. Her long, slender right ear was missing a slither near the tip, giving her delicate features a touch of fierceness, as did the stern expression on her face.
“Smártungl!” Right hand pressed to her heart, the woman bowed her head as she spoke in a hurried tone. “Lord Fergus of the New York enclave demands we depart his lands on the order of Ard Tiarna Cináed of the High Seelie court.”
In response to this announcement, I pressed a hand to my mouth to smother a laugh. He’d really stepped over the line this time. Within the mirror I heard my faðir mutter something angrily to his consort who looked similarly displeased.
“Lord Fergus is rather fond of using his kin’s name for his own benefit,” I said with a smile as I rose to my feet, and strode across the room to pull back the curtain which covered the front window of the lounge room.
Lady Isabel, and Helma followed me to the window, peering around my shoulder to look at the scene outside.
You are reading story The Myrkálfar Moon at novel35.com
A line of Dökkálfar stood on the sidewalk facing the street, with a half dozen Skutilsveinr mounted on Perytons. The winged deer flew in circles over the house, maintaining a tight formation as they patrolled the skies.
Gathered in a cluster on the opposite side of the street, were the enclaves' guardians, and in the midst Lord Fergus stood flanked by two broad shouldered men who were his personal guards. The lord appeared flustered, and the guardians looked tense as they stared at the Skutilsveinr who were much more relaxed.
“So few?” Lady Isabel queried as I withdrew my hand, allowing the curtain to fall back into place.
“That looks to be the entire guardian force.” I informed her as I made my way back across the room.
What was Lord Fergus thinking? Did he truly think his guardians could truly be a match for the Skutilsveinr? They would be lucky to have the strength to face even one, let alone thirty. Maitane frequently said she was confident that she could take out the entirety of the enclave's guardian force alone, so what hope did they have against thirty knights?
Looking at the still kneeling Skutilsveinr, I pondered what response to give. “Inform Lord Fergus that neither he, nor Ard Tiarna Cináed have the authority to expel me from the city. I am the grandniece of the Seelie High King, and only he can request that I depart.”
As the woman left to pass on my message, I felt a little sad that I would not be able to see the lord's response up close.
Helvern gave a low chuckle that ended on a sigh. “I intended for you to be a little more subtle in gaining High King Locryn’s acknowledgment, dóttir.”
I smiled, giving a slight shrug of my shoulders. “He either allows me to remain, acknowledging our relation, or forces me to depart and risks insulting our kingdom by doing so.”
“Have care, dóttir,” my faðir warned, his expression stern. “The Seelie king will not be pleased you are forcing his hand, even if it is to both our kingdoms' benefit. He is skilled in political games, whilst you are still lacking in experience.”
“Maitane told me High King Locryn once sought Jarlkona Norell as a concubine, and she was rather impolite with her refusal. This little moon wonders if he mayhap he is of a mind to support me to spite her.”
Helvern smothered a laugh, and the king’s lips twitched as he fought to keep his expression from showing his own amusement. “Such a thing did indeed occur, and our relations with the Seelie have not been the same since.”
“This is part of the reason I wish to remain in New York.” I said as I retook my seat. “It has always been my intention to forge connections with the Seelie high court, however my target for such had been Ard Tiarna Cináed, not the high king.”
“What use do you believe Ard Tiarna Cináed will serve dóttir? It is the Dökkálfar nobility you need to forge connections with, not the Seelie.” My faðir said, his tone dismissive as he spoke of the Seelie high lord.
“Ard Tiarna Cináed, key-nah.” Helvern spoke the fae high lord's name a few times, drawing out the word as he gazed off to the side as though lost in thought.
I watched with a half smile as the consorts eyes brightened, the corners of his lips tilting upwards. “Dóttir, that is a dangerous game you seek to start.”
“The game is already being played, I am simply picking my pieces.”
He inclined his head before looking at my faðir who arched a questioning brow at him. “Cináed's sister is concubine to Jarl Ívarr of Markaðshöfn.”
Lady Rosheen had been the Jarl’s concubine long before Norell wed him, and despite her dóttir being the first born, she’d been set aside in favor of my cousin. I never personally encountered either women, but had heard Lord Fergus speak about them several times.
“Lord Fergus often speaks of the mistreatment his kin have received at the hands of the Dökkálfar court,” I sighed, pressing a hand to my chest with an expression of feigned sadness. “As the Smártungl, it saddens me to hear of their sufferings, especially after all their kin have done to protect me these past years. As such, I would like to have Lady Dagmar as a hefðarkona to repay this debt.”
For a higher ranked noblewoman, it was traditional that they would have at least one female companion, which was known as their hefðarkona, or if they had more than one, hefðarkonur. Typically, the hefðarkonur were nobles of a lesser rank than the noblewoman they accompanied. To be the hefðarkonur of the Smártungl was a great honor, not something that Lady Dagmar could easily turn down in her position.
“I see,” my faðir murmured, his gaze drifting to his consort. “Your thoughts?”
Helvern inclined his head. “It is a very provocative move, the outcome will depend on the personality of Lady Dagmar. She has never attended court, nor does she attend any social events that I am aware of.”
“Conduct an investigation, we shall further determine her suitably after more is known.” My faðir said, before turning to me with a stern expression. “Choosing your hefðarkona is not a matter to take lightly, dóttir, they must be carefully selected, not picked on a whim.”
“Then I shall seek your assistance in this matter as my knowledge of court is outdated,” I said, tapping my fingers on the armrest of my chair. How could I carefully select my hefðarkona when my court information was over a cycle out of date?
Maitane had done her best to gather as much information about the kingdoms as possible, but gathering news on the Dökkálfar court was difficult. The Dökkálfar only had three enclaves in the human realm, none of which were in America.
“This is why I sent a Njósn to your side dóttir,” Prince consort Helvern said, his brows creasing ever so slightly. “Did she not present herself to you?”
He sent me a spy? I furrowed my own brows momentarily before understanding dawned. He was speaking of the Pixie. It made sense that a dresser, whose task was to pay close attention to the trends of the court, would also make a good informant. I did consider the possibility she could be an informer, but not that she would be sent as my own.
“Já, she has presented herself.” I confirmed, brushing a hand over the skirt of my dress. “She has also informed me that due to the rush in her departure, the clothing she was able to gather is lacking.”
The royal consort inclined his head. “I will see to it that supplies are sent with the second regiment that is coming to serve you. Is there anything in particular you are lacking?”
“Glóabær jam pastries.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them, and I felt my cheeks grow warm as laughter sounded from within the mirror, and the direction of where my aunt was sitting on the lounge.
“Only sweets, dóttir? Nothing else?” My athair teased.
I raised my chin, schooling my face into a mask of impassivity. “Maitane can provide a more extensive list of what I require.”
“Ah, yes.” My faðir said as he arched a brow. “Where is dear Maitane? She is yet to greet me.”
“She chose not to come greet you in favor of packing our belongings,” I informed him, watching as his brows creased.
“I see,” he sighed, lounging back on the chaise. “I shall send a selection of her favored teas.”
“You think she will be appeased by tea?” I laughed, shaking my head. “Faðir, you allowed another Húsvættir to claim the Smártungl palace in her absence. No amount of tea shall assuage her anger.”
My faðir shook his head. “No Húsvættir claims the Smártungl palace, what was once your home is now a guest residence used for foreign royalty. A Húsvættir serves in the guest residence, but none holds claim over your new palace.”
A wave of familiar power washed over me as Maitane appeared beside my chair, her arms crossed as she glowered at the men within the mirror. “Which palace has my moon been granted?”
“This is the greeting you give your Ríkrtungl?” My faðir asked, his voice thrumming with power as he stared at the Húsvættir.
Mai said nothing, simply glowering at him in silence. As the pair glared at each other through the mirror, I used my hand to hide a yawn. The events of the day, and the lack of sleep catching up on me.
“Blessuð nótt, Solorian, Ríkrtungl av Svartálfaheimr.” After several long minutes, Maitane ceded defeat, though I suspected she did so only to allow my faðir to save face.
“My dóttir has been granted a new palace.” The king said once Maitane rose from her shallow curtsy.
I furrowed my brows at that. A new palace? There were no empty residences, unless he gave that of my móðir to me, but doing such would be a grave insult to my position. Housing the heir in a concubines palace? It was simply unthinkable.
“A new construction?” Mai queried.
“The Silfrást palace required repairs, and after some thought, I had it torn down to be replaced by the new Smártungl palace.” My faðir said in a tone that conveyed his happiness at the destruction of the Silfrást palace.
For many years, the Silfrást palace had been the residence of Lady Novella, concubine to the former Ríkrtungl, and the móðir of Norell. It was a shining palace that towered above the other concubines' residences, and had been built as a gift for the great moon’s most treasured concubine after the birth of their dóttir.
When the Ríkrtungl passed, and Lady Novella was assassinated shortly after, many rumors had spread about who might have been behind her death, with most believing it to be my faðir and his móðir. In truth, it had been Maitane who killed the concubine, as it was the former Ríkrtungl’s dying wish to have his beloved concubine at his side even in death.
“Was it not the Silfrást palace that served as residence for your concubine, Lady Anđela?” I asked as my gaze drifted to the antler’s worn by my faðir, focusing on the prongs.
The two front prongs on either side were adorned with silver rings, each with a round moonstone embedded in the band to symbolize my faðir, and Helvern’s marriage. Behind the first two prongs, only two did not possess a band to represent a royal concubine.
I stared at the second prong on the left side of the antlers, the sight of the silver band making my stomach clench. Beneath the plain silver band, was a second decorated with a tiny crescent shaped moonstone which showed that my móðir birthed a child, and that her child was the Smártungl. No other concubine bands were paired with a second to indicate a sibling born in the years since I last saw my faðir.
“I am surprised to see two of your prongs lack bands, faðir. When I was younger, not a single one lacked adornment.” I said, eyeing the prong which once held the band for Lady Anđela.
“Two were found guilty of treasonous actions following the events of the attack on your palace,” My faðir said, his expression growing dark. “Whilst dealing with them caused some minor issues, I can not deny that it is far more peaceful without their presence.”
“I will express no sadness over their absence,” I replied, biting the inside of my lip to contain a smile.
“Do not get too joyous, dóttir. You will have concubines of your own to deal with soon enough.” Faðir chuckled, his eyes filled with amusement.
I gave a weary sigh, pressing a hand to my temple. “I do not intend to fill palaces with noisy, petty lovers who squabble at each other over every little thing. It baffles me that you did such yourself when you have no interest in those women.”
“I will not refute your words dóttir.” The Ríkrtungl glanced at his consort, his smirk softening into a gentle smile. “The only need I had for concubines was for you. We visited none after your conception, not even Luciana.”
“Móðir often joked that my conception was both a blessing and curse, for it meant she would no longer enjoy the pleasures of the Ríkrtungl’s bed.” I smiled, watching my faðir closely for his reaction. He appeared pleased with my words, and I gave him a moment to wallow in pride before I struck at his ego. “Though, I suspect it wasn’t you she mourned the loss of, faðir, but Helvern, for it was his skill she bragged of most when in the company of the other concubines.”
Laughter filled the room, with even Maitane joining in as the Ríkrtungl’s cheeks took on a reddish hue. After my minor victory against faðir, the conversation flowed naturally as Maitane, and Lady Isabel conversed with Helvern about the items they believed I would require.
As the list continued to expand, I used my hand to hide yet another yawn. Though it seemed I did not conceal it well enough as my faðir spoke. “Are you tired, dóttir?”
I nodded, lowering my hand. “It has been a long day, and with Lady Isabel's swift return I have yet to seek my bed.”
“Perhaps you should seek it now, as I suspect there will be some time yet before a representative from the Seelie court arrives. We also have matters to tend here,” he said, glancing at his consort who nodded in agreement.
“Then I shall bid you farewell. Blessuð nótt, faðir, athair.” I said, rising from my chair to give a shallow curtsy to the mirror.
“Blessuð nótt, dóttir.” The pair responded before the mirror shimmered, and the image of my fathers was replaced with my own reflection.
Leaving Maitane, and Lady Isabel to deal with any matters which might arise, I left for my bedroom intent on getting as much sleep as possible before I would be forced to endure the political un-pleasantries required when interacting with the Seelie fae.